


infinitely undefined

by nezstorm



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Baby Werewolves, Break Up, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Full Shift Werewolves, Future Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Linear Narrative, Pregnant Stiles, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/pseuds/nezstorm
Summary: Stiles misses him sometimes. In the odd moments between reality and sleep.--Or the one where Stiles and Peter make a baby, but Peter is a chicken shit.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles misses him sometimes, in the odd moments between reality and sleep.

When his bed is too big and his chest too tight; the night cold and silent without his snoring.  When he’s tired and cranky, and doesn’t have enough hands to handle shopping bags and a screaming Evie. When her crying is too loud and he has to growl softly a wolf lullaby. When her eyes flash and her cheeks grow fuzzy, and he wonders if he’s equipped to raise her right.

When there’s not enough him or time.

When there’s danger in town and he bleeds, and wonders: will there be anyone left to take her in?

It’s wistful and all kinds of pointless, makes him feel worse than all the anger that still burns deep within him, in the space where he’s been wronged. Where he wasn’t loved enough to keep. Where his baby was a thing to discard and abandon.

\--

It was just a thing, what they were doing. Infinitely undefined.

Full of fights and sniping at each other, at times more about resentment than anything else. Occasionally long discussions of two people that just  _ got _ each other and they were a bit wrong. Forever finding new ways to make each other gasp and push harder.

It was a thing until it got out of hand and they found that two can make three.

Until Peter decided that he was already in too deep, that he didn’t need that kind of baggage. That he couldn’t handle another chance at losing what little he built.

Until they had a chance at a family and Peter left.

\---

 

They were an explosion in disguise. A clash and burn waiting to happen. They were an ever changing set of variables that constantly realigned, always with a different collateral and range. 

 

Sometimes it was just one of them getting hurt. Other times it was one of the pack or the group as a whole, a straggler. Most of the time it was them both.

 

And neither.

 

They mashed where it hurt and clashed where it doubled, fueled by past rage and current anger, fascination and a strange sense of fondness alike. They didn’t exactly hate each other, but there were moments when Stiles thought that they both despised what they were to one another. And all the possibilities and could have been’s. 

 

There was no future for them the way there were other than a bloody mess, real or metaphorical. There was no reason for them to want to last.

 

They just did, changing minutely. But never quite enough.

 

It’s what pushed them apart, Stiles thinks, how they were still the same and living in the past. The same thing that brought them together never allowing them to become one. 

 

But where he was ready to drop it all and give it a brand new start, cleanse it together with the food that left his body every morning with Evie growing inside-- Peter didn’t seem to even want to try.

 

They were no more than a miscalculation.

 

\--

 

The last month is the hardest.

 

He’s heavy with Evie, clumsy around his huge belly. He feels like a mountain when he’s sitting and like a beached whale when he waddles through the house. He gets stuck sometimes even, when he miscalculates how much room he needs, his room more often than not too small to handle his improved size.

 

He doesn’t go out, really, unless it’s early morning or late evening and he doesn’t bother with the light on their back porch. He sits there, on the swing he and his dad put together when he was six, and was more of a bother and a hazard than actual help. Sometimes he’s alone, mostly with a warm, friendly or familial shoulder at his side, a blanket draped over his lap.

 

He looks at the stars and wishes for different things every time.

 

\--

 

He aches a lot, pees like he’s leaking, makes Scott rub lotion into his belly to kill two birds with one stone: dealing with stretchmarks and Scott needing to touch and measure the strength of Evie’s kicks. 

 

She once spilled soup all over Stiles’ shirt, when he was using his belly as a table, she’ll be a hurricane. Stiles’ dad says she’s taking after her own father. 

 

Sometimes Stiles wants to ask Derek if she’s taking only after one.

 

\--

 

Stiles can understand why Peter left, or can at least try to see it through Peter’s eyes with the bigger part of his mind.

 

But it doesn’t make the damage less, doesn’t invalidate the hurt.

 

He’s only glad that, before he ditched, Peter didn’t even try to tell him to get rid of the child. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

There are pieces of him that don’t fit and fragments where he doesn’t make sense. There are things he’s done and words he’s said that some days paint him more like a villain than the hero his father once saw.

 

There is still blood dripping down his hands.

 

But there is also a heart, that’s beating down below his. A spark of life more precious than anything he knows. A creature he holds dear months before he’ll get to hold her in his arms.

 

And he’s set the world ablaze for her, and he’ll raze it all to the ground at her whim. But he’ll also set it at her feet like the gift it’s meant to be. 

 

But he has to have her first.

 

\--

 

The pain is sudden and if he hasn’t been sitting already he’d drop to the floor. It flares up from his lower back and his stomach, and as Stiles gasps, one hand on his belly and the other clutching at his dad, all he can’t think about it Evie.

 

His little baby girl that he’s supposed to see in just two week’s time.

 

He sees his dad making frantic phone calls between asking him questions and telling him it’ll be okay. But his words are muffled like they’re coming through a barrier of cotton. 

 

He doesn’t snap out of his panicked haze until the cruiser is already parked in front of Deaton’s clinic, his dad and Scott pulling him gently out of the car, red and blue lights blinking across their worried faces. 

 

“You have to save her,” he tells Deaton as they lay him down on the table.

 

“Save my baby,” he pleads.

 

She’s everything he needs. 

 

\--

 

He doubts he’s ever been this scared in his life. Not when his mother didn’t recognize him and forgot his name, not when his father almost died yet again. Nothing compares to the minutes spent awaiting Deaton’s verdict, knowing that it could be a sentence all the same.

 

His dad is there, so is Scott, he can see Lydia stepping through the door and the silhouettes that stayed behind in the hall. But he still finds himself wishing for another set of footsteps like an uproar and a matching smirk that sometimes defies it all. 

 

Even when he finally knows, they’ll be okay, they have to be careful and prepare for Evie to come any day,  _ his baby will be fine _ \--

 

When he cries in relief half-curled into his father’s chest--

 

He still wishes that Peter had been there with them and took at least an ounce of the pain upon himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Evie starts growling in Stiles’ arms not even two minutes after she first meets Peter. 

 

It might be the rapid  _ thump thump thump _ of his heart that causes her distress, he has her pressed so closely to his heart that she doesn’t have to be a werewolf to hear it. It might be the sour scent of anger, contempt and a hint of longing that Stiles hates himself for, that Stiles surely reeks of in this moment. 

 

It might be that he himself half-growled at Peter the moment he saw the man at the front step of his home. 

 

It doesn’t matter either way because her cheeks are fuzzy and there are little claws swiping in Peter’s direction like she wants to claw at him and scare him off at the same time, no matter that she’s just barely six months old and in a ladybug onesie. She’ll protect her daddy from the bad man. 

 

It doesn’t matter because she doesn’t recognize Peter for who he is to her and doesn’t seem like she’ll wiggle out of Stiles’ hold to be picked up by Peter. There’s no immediate recognition on her part and Stiles might have been worried over nothing whenever he imagined this moment happening. But he’s still only learning about how baby werewolves, - and babies in general, - develop no matter how much his dad and Derek try to help. 

 

She’s still just his, his little miracle, and no false remorse, no empty apologies or whatever Peter came to do or say will ever change that. She’ll always be just his.

 

“There’s no reason for you to be here,” he tells Peter as he rocks Evie in his arms because she’s crying now, so close to an upset little howl, “There’s no room for you.”

 

He closes the door before Peter can get a word out, presses his cheek against Evie’s, and he, too, cries. 


	4. Chapter 4

Derek looks like he’s about to hyperventilate every time he’s within touching range of Evie. It’s painfully adorable, but Stiles tries not to laugh too hard at him. He doesn’t want to scare him away.

 

He needs someone to warm up bottles for her when he’s too exhausted to blink and his dad is at work, after all.

 

Stiles would be lost without Derek there to help him up or drag him down the last couple months and that was before Evie was born and Stiles forgot what rest was.

 

His dad is there when he can be, but being the Sheriff always meant long hours, even before the monster infestations began. There’s Parrish who does the occasional store run or checks in to see everything’s fine, but Stiles prefers him at his dad side and keeping an eye out. 

 

Scott and the others drop by when they can, but they all have college. They’re all scattered and with little time and money to spare to drive down, but they do what they can. Their hearts and occasional care packages (full of adorable clothes for Evie, mostly) with him even if their presence is rare.

 

But Derek is around, both guarding the territory and just doing his own, and apparently making sure that Stiles remembers to sleep and eat and occasionally breathe. He understood the days Stiles couldn’t even bother getting out of bed, or those where words were out of reach, those where anger was the only available response to the hurt and betrayal Stiles still felt. 

 

And he’s still around now, sitting on the floor with Evie who looks even smaller than usually in his arms, watching Stiles cook dinner for them as Evie bats at his beard with her saliva-streaked hands.

 

He’s holding her carefully, like she’s incredibly precious or a time bomb, or both (and the last is true, ask them when it’s time to change the diaper) and Stiles will never be anything other than grateful that he’s here.

 

Uncle Derek is just the best.


	5. Chapter 5

Evie isn’t even born yet when one day, six month into the pregnancy, Derek appears at the Stilinski house with a brand new crib. 

 

It’s dark wood and sturdy enough that it’ll keep the baby in and safe if they happen to be a werewolf, and it must have cost a small fortune. 

 

“ _ Derek _ ,” 

 

“You’ll need it either way.”

 

And it’s another thing that Derek has already bought for the baby and Stiles can’t accept it. Can’t stand the pity. 

 

“You have to stop doing this, Derek,” he tells him, standing in the doorway so Derek can’t just come in and leave the crib in the nursery, “You’re not obliged to buy things for us because you feel guilty about Peter being an absolute dickhead,” he swallows, words catching in his throat from emotion, “You don’t have to do this just because he… just because I–”

 

_ Because I wasn’t enough _ , going by unspoken. Because Evie and he weren’t worth sticking around for. 

 

“We don’t need your pity,” he spits, smoothing hands over his belly where Evie started kicking, sensing his agitation. 

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek answers him calmly, “I’m doing this because I can. I have the money and you’re my friend. And most importantly your baby is a Hale. She'll be my cousin. My family,” he says, breaking eye contact to look at Stiles’ round stomach. 

 

And it shuts Stiles up and they just look at each other for a while, Derek clutching at the crib and Stiles soothing Evie as he mulls over Derek’s words. 

 

He relaxes and moves back to finally let Derek in, grasps his forearm as he passes in a wordless thank you.

 

An hour later he’s sitting in his mother’s old rocking chair laughing at the dark furrow of Derek’s brows as he fights to set up the crib, Evie kicking about happily.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

Peter doesn’t say sorry, nor tries to excuse what he has done. It’s not the way Peter Hale operates after all. 

 

He’s just there.  _ Looming _ . Present wherever Stiles goes, not hiding what he’s doing at all.

 

He’s just there. Like being  _ there _ enough in the distance, on the other side of the street, in the next aisle at the store could even begin to fix what he destroyed. 

 

He’s just there, imposing, like his presence should be quite enough.

 

Stiles doesn’t care for his mind games in the way that not caring means a quickening heartbeat and a spike of something he doesn’t want to name. Instead, he always has someone else with him when he’s out of the house with Evie.

 

He could set someone loose at Peter, people have been volunteering to cut his balls off and pummel his face since they’ve learned about what happened between Stiles and he, but there’s no need to give the man any more attention. To give him another excuse to start or end something.

 

Stiles has a baby to take care of and a job to find to keep them both afloat.

 

He doesn’t know why Peter came back now, over a year later, so fucking long overdue. He doesn’t know if Peter has any sort of real intentions towards him or Evie, or both. If he’s just here to fuck things up out of boredom and spite because Stiles has finally settled into his life again and found a way to make things work.

 

He doesn’t care and cares a lot, both, he can’t tell some days when he remembers how they used to be, how it was to be left alone. 

 

Sometimes he wishes Peter would just breach the space between them and say whatever he has to say if only so that Stiles could settle between simmering anger or laughing in his face and turning about, turning another leaf. Sometimes he wishes Peter never left in the same breath he wishes that he never returned. That he let Scott and Lydia chase him down and make him hurt.

 

Sometimes he looks back at Peter, the eyes that had him so enthralled back then, the eyes Evie inherited together with Stiles moles and an upturned nose. He looks and doesn’t regret what they once were, kisses Evie’s round face until she giggles and bats him away. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

“I didn’t want to come back.”

 

“Then why did you?”

 

“Because I never should have left.”

 

“A bit late to come to that conclusion, don’t you think?”

 

“It is, isn’t it? You’ve made it on your own, I knew you would. You’re a survivor, like me.”

 

“And that’s supposed to justify what you did and make me feel better about you making a run for it as soon as things got complicated? Fuck. You.”

 

“I didn’t want to have to survive you, too.”

 

“What do you want from me, Peter?”

 

“To know if  _ you _ want anything from me at all.”

 

“I used to, you know, when it was all new, when I almost lost Evie or where she shifted for the first time. Sometimes I still do. But you only ever care about your own needs in the end. And I knew that, I should have remembered that when I first got into bed with you, and later when it went down the drain. So no, I have no room or time to spare on wondering how you’ll hurt us this time around. The only thing I want is for you to never bother us again.”

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Baby werewolves have a full shift that they can first achieve at the age of three. They can do the basic Beta transformation that all adult werewolves have before then: complete with a fuzzy face and tiny claws, technicolor eyes. But they get to turn into puppies when they’re about three years old and until they’re five, according to both Derek and Deaton, and Stiles can’t possibly imagine his little ladybug being even cuter than she already is.

 

Until Evie does the unexpected and suddenly shifts in the middle of the baby food aisle and Stiles is left with a puppy strapped to his chest. She’s still only five months old.

 

Hastily, Stiles abandons his shopping cart and covers Evie up with the hoodie he discarded once they stepped into the store, and makes his way for the door. He flashes the cashier an apologetic smile, mouths ‘baby emergency’ which garners him a sympathetic look from the cashier and the customer next to them both, and flees home.

 

He doesn’t lift the hoodie off Evie until they’re inside, checking on her periodically as he speed walks to make sure she’s fine and still covered in fuzzy-looking fur. His neighbours would have a field day if they noticed him leaving the house with a baby and coming back with what looked like a dog instead.

 

He takes them both to the couch and unfastens the carrier, and takes a good look at Evie.

 

Her eyes are the usual bright blue as always, her downy fur the same color as it was, just like his. But other than that she’s a wolf cub through and through and she even goes as far to lick his nose when he holds her up to his face.

 

She pees on him right after, her diaper having slipped free. 

 

Stiles sighs, cleans them both up and tries to call Derek who is in South America visiting Cora for the week.

 

\--

 

“You said she wouldn’t be able to do it until she was three! At least!”

 

“Stiles, I said about three. Not my fault your kid’s an overachiever,” Stiles can sense him rolling his eyes at him ever through the speakerphone. 

 

He can hear his dad, who came home not long after Stiles and Evie did, mutter about smart kids using smarts to get into trouble in the background, and how that means Evie is  _ definitely  _ his.

 

“Not helping dad.”

 

When Evie is still a puppy three hours later though, none of them is amused. 

 

\---

 

Derek, Cora, a few members of her pack, even Deaton - all of them try to help Stiles get Evie back to her usual everyday skin. 

 

Scent, a steady heartbeat, a calming bath, a soft song. He tries it all. He rounds the nursery too many times to count as he rocks her, trying to get her to sleep since, according to the advice he received, Evie should shift back on her own once she’s asleep.

 

“She doesn’t understand what happened and is probably too scared to shift back on her own. She doesn’t have anyone to show her,” Alpha Vergas has said.

 

Stiles did his best not to flinch. 

 

Evie is cranky and not sleepy at all, she keeps licking at Stiles, his face, neck and hands, whatever she can reach. She’s nervous because she can feel just how worried Stiles is.

 

He’ll love her like this, too, is she’s permanently stuck. Derek has already arranged a flight home to help if that’s the case even, though he tried to reassure Stiles it’d all be fine even before he’d be halfway back.

 

Stiles will love his little girl no matter what body she’s in, no matter who she’ll live to be. He will.

 

But he wishes he hadn’t failed her so much first. Because that’s what this is. He’s worked out how to teach Scott control, he faced Alpha werewolves, a kanima, a Darach, survived being possessed by a demon. 

 

He carried them both up to this point and yet he can’t help his own baby shift back.

 

He can’t teach her that. 

 

She needs someone who knows what’s going on, who’ll show her how it’s done. She needs someone who knows how it feels like to be part human and part wolf. She needs someone that can give her more than Stiles can.

 

But right now all she has is Stiles.

 

There’s moisture in his eyes and Evie is whining pitifully. He hugs her close and hides his face in her fur doing his best not to cry.

 

\--

 

They cry themselves to sleep in the rocking chair. That’s where Stiles’ dad finds them when he checks on them before his morning shift.

 

She’s pink-skinned, with an upturned nose and a little frown on her face because she’s naked and cold.

 

Derek  _ doesn’t  _ say that she turned back because both her and Stiles finally calmed down in their sleep. He pulls Stiles into a hug and tells him that any good parent would be just as scared. That he did his best and Evie isn’t missing on anything with just him. 

 

It’s enough to at least have Stiles curl up in his bed with Evie, and try and catch up on some sleep. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles sees Peter again a week after the shift scare with Evie. He's still rattled and shaky, tries not to hover too much when he's with Evie, distracts himself every time the thoughts of him being not enough to keep her safe and whole come up. Safe to say, he's in no state to go up against Peter at all.

 

It's as much of an ambush as you can call Peter trailing after him since he left the house that morning and following Stiles to the store. He's benevolent enough to allow Stiles to get his shopping done and paid for before he actually leaves the shadows and approaches him.

 

Stiles just sighs and continues walking, heading in the direction opposite to home and not even hoping for the best.

 

They walk in silence for a while, but it's not comfortable like it used to be. It's charges, makes Stiles' heart rattle in his chest, makes him want to swing the shopping bag and smash the eggs on Peter's face. His dad would approve losing his Saturday pancakes to the cause.

 

"I shouldn't have left," Peter finally says, when Stiles almost talked himself into starting a screaming match, "But I did and I like to consider myself smart enough to know how to pick my battles."

 

Peter's tone is even and measured, almost calculated. Stiles remains silent and waits, not sure yet what game Peter is playing this time around.

 

He feels too tired and too vulnerable for it anyway.

 

Peter stops at an intersection so Stiles does too. He waits, watching Peter watch him. There's hunger in those blue eyes, something Stiles could consider regret. There's an old flame he used to know, but now does nothing other than make him want to run away.

 

Maybe Peter sees that, maybe he knows there was no point to ever coming back, but Stiles will later be thankful for the closure it'll give him.

 

Peter doesn't try to close the distance between them, doesn't do anything as gaudy as try to kiss him one last time. He says:

 

"Goodbye, Stiles," and walks away.


End file.
